


Attack of the Plastics!

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [116]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Doctor Who Fusion, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8060719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment Fic for Free For All prompt: Stargate: Atlantis/Doctor Who, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, Doctor and Companion.In which fighting off murderous mannequins isn't the weirdest thing to happen to John that day.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aivix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aivix/gifts), [smiles2go](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smiles2go/gifts).



> TV Fusion: Doctor Who

John was having a bad day. Not failed-rescue-in-the-desert bad, but it was right up there.

He’d gone to the Tennant Square Starbucks because apparently being a coffee gopher was on his list of job duties – thanks for kicking a guy when he’s down, Dad – and before he could even open the door and add himself to the back of the very long line, shop windows were shattering and the mannequins started attacking people.

John immediately went on the offensive, but it turned out that fighting mannequins wasn’t easy. For one thing, they didn’t bleed. For another, whatever force was animating them wasn’t at all slowed down by the loss of a head or random limbs. It didn’t take long for him to realize he was outmatched, and then it was just a matter of helping other people flee the immediate area.

He did his best, which was pretty damn good considering his training, but in the end he was outnumbered and boxed in, and had to resign himself to being taken out by faceless, sexless killers wearing autumn’s trendiest fashions.

The guy in the orange fleece swinging a bat with abandon took John by surprise. He beat back a few of the mannequins and grabbed hold of John’s hand.

“Run, you idiot!”

John didn’t need to be told twice. The man in the fleece pulled him along the cobblestone pedestrian walkway, dodging around the other people running from the mannequins.

“What’s going on?” John shouted.

“Living plastic,” the guy shouted back. “I’d explain it but you wouldn’t understand!”

“Try me!”

They made an unexpected right turn and John almost bounced off a brick wall. The guy stopped running and pushed the bat into John’s hands.

“Take this. And for pity’s sake stay off the street! I have to stop them while they’re still contained.”

When the guy made to take off again, John grabbed hold of his arm. “Wait. Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor,” the guy said with a crooked grin, and then he was off and running again.

“The doctor of what?” John called after him, but the man was already gone.

Well. He wasn’t going to cower in an alley like some kind of scaredy-cat. John hefted the bat and took a couple of practice swings before poking his head around the corner. There were no people on the sidewalk, and also no mannequins creaking around like neutered zombies.

John edged out from the alley, bat at the ready, and then there was an explosion that knocked him backwards into the wall and made him see stars.

Had the doctor stopped the mannequins? John stumbled back to Tennant Square, only to find it in ruins. The Fashionique store was in flames, every shop window had been blown out, and mannequins were scattered around like corpses, some of them charred.

John looked around for the orange fleece but there was no sign of it. 

“Doctor who?” he shouted in frustration.

*o*o*o*

Patrick Sheppard kindly gave John the rest of the day off. The whole office had been abuzz with news of the attack, which the newscasters were calling a prank gone terribly wrong. John had been checked out by EMTs on the scene – no concussion, just a painful bump – and was resting comfortably at his apartment while his father met with lawyers to find out who to sue for his son’s near-death experience.

Nancy had called to check on John, though she was much too busy to stop by and see him. They were trying to make another go at a relationship, at his father’s insistence, but even John could see they were both just marking time. The love that had been between them once was gone, though John still cared for her, and Nancy had been singularly uninterested in hearing about homicidal mannequins.

John couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the fleece, and how he’d probably been the one to stop the mannequins. How had he known what to do? 

Sitting around wasn’t helping, so John pocketed his cell phone and slipped out. He figured he’d get something to eat, since he’d never gotten around to having his breakfast that morning. There was a diner just down the street that made a really good frittata, and it would have been the perfect thing to distract himself with if the man in the orange fleece hadn’t been sitting at the counter, arguing with the waitress.

“…listening,” he was saying. “I’m allergic. Not just a little allergic, like a rash or a few hives. I mean full on, anaphylactic, throat closes up to a pinhole allergic. Which is damned inconvenient, but there you have it. So please do not put lemon in my water, or anywhere near my food, unless you want to try and keep me alive until the paramedics get here. And trust me, there’d be way too many questions if that happened.”

John dropped down on the stool next to the doctor. “Hey.”

The doctor jumped, and then turned to look at John with a critical eye. “Oh, it’s you. Do you always look like you’ve just rolled out of bed?”

John resisted the urge to try and smooth down his cowlicks. “John Sheppard. Thanks for the save this morning.”

“If you had a better-developed sense of self-preservation I wouldn’t have had to. But you’re welcome.”

“I never got your name,” John said, and waited expectantly.

“Yes you did. I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor who?”

“No, just the Doctor.”

“That sounds pretentious.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

John dropped his voice, just in case anyone was listening to their conversation. “You want to tell me what that was this morning? The news said it was a prank gone wrong, but I think that’s bullshit.”

“You’re better off believing that and forgetting about the rest,” the Doctor advised. “What I’m on the trail of is big, really big, and if things go south you might want to enjoy your last few hours.”

Well, that was vaguely ominous. And there was a note of urgency in the Doctor’s voice that was at odds with his taking a leisurely meal.

“I can’t fight on an empty stomach,” the Doctor said defensively when John voiced his concerns. “Besides, Tennant Square was just a test. I’ve got time before the real deal gets cooking.”

The waitress returned with the Doctor’s plate, which was piled high with every kind of meat and at least six eggs. Not to mention the side of white toast.

“Hungry?” John asked.

“You’d be surprised how difficult it is to get good food on the road. I have to stock up while I can. Pass the salt.”

There was something oddly entrancing about watching the man eat, and not just because he was attractive. The Doctor approached his food with economical movement and total focus, making quick work of the huge meal. By the time he finished John was only halfway through his frittata, and he didn’t have time to eat the rest because the Doctor was throwing money on the counter and heading out the door.

“Hey! Wait!” John chased after him. “If that mannequin thing is going to happen again, I want to help you stop it.”

“Why?” The Doctor gave him a quizzical look. “What do you think you could possibly do that I couldn’t?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what you’re going up against. But I’m not just going to sit back and wait to see what happens.”

“Living plastic,” the Doctor said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Living plastic. That’s what I’m up against. The Nestene Consciousness, to be more precise, and unless you believe in alien intelligences, this really isn’t something you want to pursue.”

John immediately balked at the mention of alien anything, but he could see the Doctor believed what he said. There was no hint of obfuscation in his blue eyes, or the slant of his crooked mouth.

“Alien intelligences?” John echoed.

“I’m trying to track the signal the Consciousness is using to control the plastics, before the actual invasion starts.”

“An invasion. Of plastics.”

“Have a nice life, John Sheppard,” the Doctor said. “What’s left of it.”

He walked away, and got about a block up before he stopped in front of a blue Police Box – John had thought that was some kind of street art, like the fiberglass penguins that had popped up last year – but the Doctor unlocked it and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

A grinding, kind of wailing noise started to sound, and the Police Box started to fade right in front of John’s eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t!” John growled, and raced up the block. Before the blue box faded away completely he dove for the door and went sprawling on his hands and knees. And it wasn’t concrete under his hands, or the wooden floor of a wooden box, but metal grating.

John looked up, and the Doctor was looking down at him with comically wide eyes.

“Oh, no,” they both said.

*o*o*o*

The Police Box, it turned out, was some kind of spaceship that traveled through time and space.

“It’s bigger on the inside.”

“What an astute observation,” the Doctor said, rolling his eyes.

The Doctor was an alien himself, flying around the universe in his blue box and occasionally meddling in the affairs of other species. He didn’t look like an alien, with the fleece and the jeans and the Converse sneakers.

“But you sound Canadian,” John said.

The Doctor didn’t deign to respond to that. Instead he scanned John with something he called a sonic screwdriver, even though it looked nothing like any screwdriver John had ever seen.

“You shouldn’t have been able to do that,” the Doctor said. “How did you do that?”

“Good timing?”

"Hmm. No. You’ve got the gene. And just a hint of Huon. Well, isn’t that interesting? And completely unhelpful under the circumstances. You’re getting out at the next stop.”

“What’s Huon? That sounds bad.”

“It’s a particle, and you have trace amounts so I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It’s probably why the TARDIS let you in, but I have no idea how you were exposed.” The Doctor pocketed the screwdriver and threw some switches on the main console.

“Are we moving? I can’t tell.”

“Inertial dampeners,” the Doctor said with a smug grin.

The next stop turned out to be Christopher Pier, which was as far as he could track the signal from the plastics alien. John couldn’t believe they’d traveled so quickly from one location to another without him even feeling it. Where else could they go in the blue box? _When_ else? Was it wrong that aliens and spaceships made him feel more alive than he had since getting out of the Air Force?

“So what are we looking for?”

“ _We_ aren’t looking for anything. Go home.” The Doctor was using his screwdriver to scan the surrounding area.

The pier had been turned into a tourist trap about five years ago, so it had amusement rides and kitschy shops and plenty of places to get fair food.

“Humanity is worth saving just for the fried dough,” the Doctor said. “Now, if I can find something large enough to act as an amplifier for the signal, I can take care of the problem and get on with my day.”

“How can you stop sentient plastic?” John asked.

“Anti-plastic,” the Doctor replied, as if it was the most obvious answer. He patted the pocket of his fleece. “Which I just so happen to have a vial of.”

Smug bastard. John had the overwhelming urge to knock him down a peg or two. And hey! He had just the thing.

“I’m no genius alien, but I think maybe that big tower might be what you’re looking for. The one right in front of you, with the blinking lights?”

Tyler Tower was equally hated and adored by the locals. It wasn’t much to look at, just a metal shaft that rose two hundred and three feet in air. There was an observation deck at the top, and flashing lights wrapped around the length of the thing that alternated color depending on the season – red and green for Christmas, green and gold whenever the local high school football team had a game – and could be seen from almost anywhere in town.

The Doctor scowled. “Yes, that would do it.”

“I’m sure you would’ve seen it eventually,” John said with a smirk. “There’s access to the maintenance tunnels on the backside of it.”

“How do you know?”

“My father’s company funded the tower. We have the specs hanging on the wall in the reception area.”

“I guess there’s something to be said for corporate hubris.” The Doctor walked off and didn’t seem to mind if John followed, so he did.

The screwdriver somehow unlocked the access doors, and then they were climbing down a metal ladder bolted to the wall. John could tell immediately that something was wrong, because of the smell. It was like a vinyl shower curtain factory down there, the smell so strong it was making his head swim just a little.

The Doctor took a deep breath, and nodded. “Volatile organic compounds. We’re in the right spot.”

“So you just dump that anti-plastic on the thing? Save the day?” John asked as he trailed after the Doctor down the tunnel.

“I’m not some kind of monster, you know. I’ll give it a chance to leave peacefully.”

The tunnel came out at the top of a landing that led down to a large chamber full of the machines that kept the Tower operating, from the electric lights to the hydraulics for the elevator. The space was now filled by an undulating, not-quite-liquid mass that was beautiful to look at, glimmering gold and white and orange, but made John’s eyes water from the fumes.

The Doctor leaned over the railing. “Am I addressing the Nestene Consciousness?”

There was a noise, not speech exactly but like a low-level hum full of fluctuations. It meant nothing to John, but the Doctor nodded.

“I’m the Doctor. And I’m here to ask you politely to leave. Earth is off-limits.”

The humming pitched up, and even John could tell it was angry. 

“It was only 5/6 of a solar system! And I checked for life forms, it’s not my fault you were illegally squatting and shielding yourself.”

The gentle undulations whipped up into a frenzy.

“Yes, well, the Shadow Proclamation already punished me. I did my time. And I’m not going to let you have Earth.” The Doctor walked down the stairs to the edge of the rippling plastic. “You’ve got one chance at this, and then I stop being Mr. Nice Guy.”

Before John could call out a warning, two mannequins lurched out of the shadows and took hold of the Doctor. One reached into the pockets of the orange fleece and produced a vial of blue liquid. The Nestene Consicousness rose up like a tidal wave and then just hung there.

“I won’t have to use it if you just leave!” the Doctor shouted up at it. 

The whole chamber started to vibrate; John could feel it in his fillings. A blue beam shot up from the middle of the alien goo and the machines started making grinding noises. The Doctor twisted and looked up at John.

“It’s sending out the signal! Get out of here! Try and get someplace without plastic!”

John narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t about to go hide in a corner, not when some kind of alien slime was trying to take over the world. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d bucked orders to do what was right.

He looked around, tried to see what he had close at hand that he could use while the Doctor kept yelling at the Nestene Consciousness. There wasn’t much. He’d have given anything for a helpful bit of chain or rope, something he could swing down on, but instead he’d just have to use himself.

John backed up and then ran, using his hands to propel him over the railing and down to where the mannequins had hold of the Doctor. He dropped right on the one holding the anti-plastic. The vial flew into the air and John made a frantic grab for it; he suspected the glass tubing would be harmlessly absorbed unless it was unstoppered.

“John!” the Doctor shouted, but all of John’s focus was on catching that vial. 

Something grabbed his leg, something else grabbed hold of the back of his shirt, but he caught the anti-plastic, juggling it for a second on his fingertips. He pulled the stopper out with his teeth and threw the vial into the middle of the Nestene Consciousness before he was yanked back, landing painfully on his tailbone.

The chamber was full of noise now, so loud and high-pitched that John clapped his hands over his ears. Jesus, he’d just killed a puddle of sentient ooze from another planet!

“Run, you idiot!” the Doctor shouted in his face as he hauled John to his feet.

They ran back the way they came, explosions happening behind them. John could feel the heat of flames, and the stench of burning plastic made him gag. The Doctor pushed him up the ladder, and when they got back outside the access doors John gulped in fresh air in relief. He wished he had something to drink to get the taste out of the back of his throat.

There was an underground rumble, and lots of smoke poured out of the access doors. The lights on the Tower flickered and went out, and John wondered if there were people stranded on the observation deck, or in the elevator. He’d have stayed to help, but the Doctor was tugging at him again.

“Sirens. Help is on the way.”

Before John knew it they were standing in front of the TARDIS, the Doctor’s crooked mouth curved up in a grin. Over his shoulder there was a lot of smoke coming from downtown.

“Saved the day!” the Doctor crowed.

“More like I saved your ass,” John pointed out, grinning himself. His heart was pumping, his skin was tingling, and before he even knew what he was doing he pulled the Doctor in and laid a kiss on him.

Behind them emergency vehicles went flying by, sirens wailing, and John pulled back in dismay. He hadn’t meant to do that. Not just because he’d never kissed an alien before – at least not as far as he knew, though he’d had his suspicions about Candi Calloway – but because he’d promised his father he’d keep that kind of thing under wraps, as if John kissing men was somehow related to the rise and fall of Sheppard Industries stock options.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

The Doctor just stared at him before pulling off such an elaborate eyeroll that John was surprised his eyes didn’t fall right out of his head.

“Oh, right. You humans are still operating under a falsely constructed framework of sexual identity that makes no sense.” He flapped a hand at John. “Go home, John. You’re not ready for the complexities of life beyond the Milky Way.”

That sounded like a challenge, and John never turned away from a challenge. He cupped the Doctor’s face between his hands and kissed him, deeply and thoroughly, and he was pretty pleased with himself when he pulled back and saw that the Doctor’s face was flushed.

“Yes, well.” The Doctor cleared his throat and smoothed down the front of his fleece. “Perhaps you’re not a total loss. I don’t suppose you’d care to take a spin around the universe with me?”

John knew he was still grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt so happy, or so full of expectation. “I don’t know. Is it always this dangerous?”

“What are you, some kind of adrenalin junkie? Yes, it’s always this dangerous. And more fun than you can get in this Podunk town. You’ll see things, John, that you can’t even imagine.” The Doctor gestured widely with his hands. “We can travel anywhere. Past, future, any time in the here and now.”

John thought about his father, looking for someone to sue because his son was slightly inconvenienced. He thought about Nancy, who was happy to have the backing of Sheppard Industries but wasn’t all that interested in spending time with John. He thought of his apartment, and his job, and the utter pointlessness of his life since he’d gotten out of the Air Force.

And he thought about seeing what was under that orange fleece, and what else the Doctor might excel at besides snarkiness and time travel.

“Anywhere?” John asked.

“Any time,” the Doctor said. He had that smug look again, the one that said he knew John was going to agree.

“What the hell,” John said. “Let’s do it!”

The Doctor bounced up on the balls of his feet. “First things first, though.”

“What? Do I need alien inoculations or something?”

“No, stupid. I need fried dough.”

The Doctor headed for the pier and John hurried to catch up to him. Something told him he’d be doing a lot of that, and in his mind he was already gone, flying past planets and galaxies in a little blue box that was bigger on the inside.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** This is probably as close as I'll ever get to writing Doctor Who. LOL! This is basically a retelling of the first episode of the new series, _Rose_ , when Christopher Eccleston was the Doctor. (I really liked him, but my heart belongs to Tennant.) 
> 
> Gifted to Aivix for the fun prompt, and smiles2go for all the Doctor fics she used to write for me. ::grins::


End file.
